Falter (38 page)

I wanted to run in and break them up, but I couldn’t. Guilt and shame weighed me down like cement shoes in a lake.
 

How could he trust her? How could he dismiss me so easily?

Not knowing what else to do, I fled the café, stomping my feet against the wooden floorboards as I ran for the exit. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, fantasizing that it was Layla’s neck I was wringing. I leaned into the door, shoving it open, and stumbled onto the brick steps outside.
 

Navigating my way into the alley beside Joe’s, I crouched beside a large, metal trash can and folded myself into a tight ball. There was no one to comfort me; there was no one to help me think this through.
 

It’s simple, just go back in and fight for him, Nevaeh.
 

My guilty heart wanted to, but my faltering trust wanted nothing more to do with Gavyn. If he can turn on me that effortlessly, why should I trust him only to have him leave me when things get worse?

Sounds of Layla kissing Gavyn resonated in my head. Tears welled in my eyes. I pounded my fists against my temples, trying to dispel the taunting noises.

She doesn’t deserve him. She was wrong.
 

It was so easy for the twisted words to slip from her tongue. She’s definitely capable of doing whatever it takes to get what she wants.
 

Why should she get away with it?
 

There’s nothing Layla wouldn’t do to get her way.
 

I can play that game, too
.

As my thoughts stirred, the darkness inside me emerged, bringing me new strength. It felt…good. I could do this.
 

It wouldn’t be wrong if I got rid of her since she is one of the Dark Celatum, right? I might even be doing the world a favor.
 

Tendrils of sweet temptation twisted around me.
 

I’m going to kill her
.
 

That became my comfort. I sniffled back the tears, happily accepting my plot of revenge, and began working out the details in my mind.
 

Hours later, the pitter-patter of high heels clacking between the buildings woke me from a light sleep. I shifted forward onto my hands and knees behind the trashcan, leaning out just enough to see the sidewalk. I stared at the yellow halo of light illuminating the cement under the streetlamp. Bitterness dug into my emotions when Layla strolled past the alley.
 

Now is your time,
my inner voice urged with a wicked giggle.
 

I took off my shoes and ventured out of the alley, following Layla’s route along the sidewalk, silently stalking my prey.
 

The burning on my forehead flared. This time, I ignored it. I didn’t care what it meant anymore.

Damp gravel and concrete pressed into the pads of my feet as I stuck to the buildings’ shadows and observed Layla. My hate grew with every step she took. She was so happy and carefree, humming as she went. Her joy was unacceptable.

We walked a four short blocks and stopped at a chic apartment building. Layla typed her pass code into the security box, pulled the gate open, and stepped into the courtyard. I scurried to the entrance, wrapping my hand around the iron rod before the gate latched behind her. Hidden under the shade of overhanging trees and vines, I peered through the wrought-iron fence, studying Layla’s every move—anger boiling just beneath my skin.
 

I hated her even more for looking as pretty as she did in the hazy, blue moonlight—her flawless blonde hair and smooth skin glistening from the radiance. She beamed with delight. What had she and Gavyn done together? The possibilities were unbearable.

Layla sat on the edge of a stone fountain in the center of the courtyard, dipping her fingers in the water and then flicking the moisture off. She leaned over and slid her designer pumps off, then gathered them by the straps. A small cat pounced up beside her, hungry for attention. She muttered something to the fluffy feline rubbing against her arm, then grabbed it by the neck and threw it against a tree ten feet away.
 

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand to stop from yelling at her
.

Heartless bitch!

She stood up, grimacing at the cat with disgust, and sauntered to her ground-level apartment. Her keys jingled as she unlocked her door and pushed inside. Once she entered her home, I snuck through the courtyard, careful to keep my body pressed against the shadowy walls.

I approached her black door and looked up at the large, silver number six nailed to it.
 

How appropriate
.
 

I reached my hand out and slowly turned the knob. The latch clicked, and the door swung away from me, practically opening itself. I was grateful she didn’t lock it since I had no experience picking a lock. My hand slid over the recesses of the wood and around the edge of the door, controlling its movements as I guided it open farther.
 

I poked my head into the apartment and searched for Layla. All was still. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, fast and steady, as I entered.
 

The apartment was dark. Only a sliver of light spilled into the den from what I assumed was her bedroom. Layla moved around, opening and closing drawers, in the adjoining room. I tiptoed into the kitchen and took cover behind the bar. My eyes roamed over the counter and found a butcher’s block stocked with knives conveniently sitting beside the microwave.
 

The biggest blade suited me just fine.
 

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and smiled, gratified by the scraping sound the smooth blade made as I slid it out of the narrow slot. It was heavy but well balanced. I jabbed the knife through the air a few times to get a feel for the weight of it. My weapon of choice. I thought about dragging the sharp blade across Layla’s perfect skin and grinned.

The bedroom door opened. My stomach sank, and I dropped to the floor. Layla pranced into the den, grabbed a bag off the dining table, and returned to the bedroom, pulling the door mostly shut behind her. I waited and listened with wild anticipation. The timing had to be just right.
 

A few minutes later, water splattered into a bathtub. She was going to take a shower. This might be easier than I hoped.

A sudden sensation of snakes slithering over my skin alarmed me. I swiped my hands over my arms and legs to get them off, but nothing was there. I stiffened, scooting into the corner cabinet. Invisible tendrils of wickedness wound their way up my body.
 

My breathing sped up, and I held the knife out in front of me with both hands, ready to defend myself against the unseen presence easing its way into the atmosphere. I squinted into the dark, desperately searching for the outline of a body.

“Who are you?” I whispered.
 

Delicious desire blossomed in my belly. Unable to deny the demanding manifestation, I succumbed to its power. I sat forward, kneeling in submission, licking my lips as the black sweetness of the presence’s power flourished and fueled my reason for being there. It directed my focus back to Layla, urging me to fulfill my plan.

I crawled to the wall next to her door and peeked into the bedroom. Her naked body passed by the cracked door. I leaned in closer for a better look, focusing on the inverted cross scarring her forearm as she stopped at the foot of the bed and pinned her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. I was suddenly more aware of my own mark than I wanted to be. I grinded my teeth and balled my fists, my hatred for her expanding to a new level.
 

Layla disappeared into the bathroom, humming a happy tune. The door creaked as she shut it behind her.

I am nothing like her
.
 

You are so much more, Nevaeh
, the dominating presence agreed as it sent a caressing ripple of energy over my hypersensitive skin. My body and soul were lost to the being’s seduction.

You can do this. We can do it together, my love
, it crooned in my thoughts.

Part of me didn’t understand what was going on. I couldn’t believe I was capable of the vengeful plan in my head. I didn’t want this presence controlling my actions—or my emotions. However, a bigger part of me begged to experience the power that would unfurl if I gave in to him.

I relaxed into the devilish charm and welcomed him to join me in my revenge.

The muffled scrapes of curtain hooks sliding across a shower rod filtered through the bathroom door. I stood and crept into Layla’s room.
 

The sound of water beating relentlessly against the plastic and Layla’s incessant humming echoed off the bathroom walls while my eyes scanned over the room. Her white furniture was decorated in shades of pale pink and cream. Not the black and red fabrics and dead chickens I expected.
 

My mysterious companion gently guided me toward the bathroom, his invisible body pressing into mine.
 

I will help you, my love
, he assured.
 

The very essence flowing in my veins heated with hunger for him, and for the blood we would spill together.
 

He will help me
, I thought, drunk on temptation.
 

I inched slowly to the bathroom door and placed my hand on the cold, silver knob, my knife heavy in the other. I eased the door open, only a little, to make sure the opportunity was right. Steam billowed out around me and stuck to my skin. His disembodied breath, hotter than the steam, skimmed over my neck.
 

That’s right, baby. Go in and take her. Take what she has, like she has taken from you.
 

Oh, the wickedness. Images of my strong faceless man flashed in my mind, mesmerizing me. Thoughts of how happy we would be when we finished this bitch excited both of us. Visions of us lying in her blood, entangled around each other, making love next to her lifeless carcass, danced before me.

“Nevaeh, what are you doing?” Someone whispered urgently from the bedroom door.

I snapped back from my wicked reverie, the dark hold loosening from my soul. Instantly, I was drowning in remorse.
 

“Oh my God, what
am
I doing?” I breathed to myself in disgust and disbelief. The visions disappeared. I blinked through my confusion and glanced over my shoulder, exploring the room with unclouded sight.
 

Archard’s gorgeous face stared at me, his ocean eyes filled with concern and pleading. “Don’t do this,” he whispered, cautiously approaching my side with his hands held up open-palmed in front of him.

An intense charge sparked through the air behind me, anger riding its vicious current. The hostile force blasted into me, possessing me. My left hand raised the knife against my will, while my right hand opened the bathroom door completely.
 

“Please, help me!” I begged Archard.

“Nevaeh, don’t!” His hands grasped mine, slowing my movements but not stopping them. “Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t stop it,” I squealed. I was not in control of myself anymore. The dark force was strong and determined, willing my limbs to do its bidding.
 

“STOP!” my angel commanded, snatching me away from the door. Archard dragged me toward the exit while the invisible presence planted my feet to the floor and leaned against his grip.
 

The invisible one recited a disembodied chant and laughed wickedly in my ear. My hand shot out, slicing the blade across Archard’s wrist.
 

“Fuck,” he cursed angrily, his grasp slipping from my arm.
 

“I’m so sorry,” I cried.
 

My back suddenly slammed into a wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. I slid to the floor, struggling to find air again. Something grabbed my arm, yanking me off the floor and hurling me into the dresser. I slouched against the drawers, screaming as sharp pains shot through my shoulder and down the arm dangling at my side. The dark force had cast me aside to fight with my angel.